


An Invitation

by tayraystar



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Also Derek and Stiles are in love idiots, Derek Has Feelings, Erica and Boyd are alive as are the twins and Allison because I'm in denial, M/M, Stiles Also Has Feelings, this is a few months after 3b and everything has settled down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 02:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1533524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tayraystar/pseuds/tayraystar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But it’s only been three days. Maybe he’s being dramatic. And wouldn’t Stiles laugh at him for that thought? He’d flash his teeth, something happy rather than dangerous, mouth opening to let out a laugh, head falling back, eyes crinkling shut. And then he’d give Derek that look, and tell him: “You’ve only just figured that out?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Invitation

Derek Hale doesn’t dare let himself hope. 

Stiles had raised an eyebrow at him when he’d asked, then slowly complied, taking his phone out of his pocket and unlocking it before handing it to him. 

His eyes drill holes into his face as he types in his number, and saves it under ‘Derek’ before handing it back. Stiles stares down at the screen for a moment, before looking back up to meet his gaze. 

“Is this an invitation?” He asks. Derek fights the curling at his lips. 

“Maybe.” 

“Does this mean I can send you a text whenever I want?” 

“Perhaps.” 

“Even when it’s some stupid shit I just thought up at four in the morning?” 

“Definitely.” Derek does smile then, a quick curve of his lips, before it settles back into a line. “That’s the most important kind of text, I’ve heard.” 

Stiles grins at this. He slides his phone into his back pocket, and Derek keeps himself from following the movement, from watching his fingers slide around the pocket and back to the front, where they move up to play with the zipper on his hoodie. Really, he doesn’t look. And yet he finds himself having to look back up before Stiles catches him, only Stiles has, and is giving him a look that screams confusion. 

“You should go.” Derek says, voice harder than he’d like, because his self control is wavering and he’s not sure how much longer he can hold out. 

Stiles’ eyebrows rise up, his eyes widening at the command, before he presses his lips together and gives a short nod. 

“Okay,” he says, “I’m gonna just--going now…” He trips over his own feet in his haste, but rights himself before briskly walking towards the door. It slides closed behind him, and Derek listens to the sound of his heartbeat until it fades out of his range. 

That was three days ago. 

Derek doesn’t dare let himself hope, but he does anyway, checking his phone constantly and feeling himself frown when there’s nothing there. 

He had thought that perhaps--that maybe--Stiles might take his invitation with the full enthusiasm as he usually does with anything that’s offered to him. He’d thought he’d my drowning in messages, from the completely mundane, to the surprisingly abnormal. He’d thought he would soon regret giving Stiles his number, and say as much, but really, he’d revel in it. He’d thought it would be like a window into Stiles’ mind, a way in, a way to communicate with each other without him being mortally wounded or without someone else being in trouble. 

He’d hoped. He shouldn’t have. 

But it’s only been three days. Maybe he’s being dramatic. And wouldn’t Stiles laugh at him for that thought? He’d flash his teeth, something happy rather than dangerous, mouth opening to let out a laugh, head falling back, eyes crinkling shut. And then he’d give Derek that look, and tell him: “You’ve only just figured that out?” 

~~~

The pack meeting is a short one. No one has any activity to report, no murders, no mysterious circumstances, nothing. They very rarely get times of complete peace. Everyone seems to be smiling more. 

Scott’s taken to being the alpha much quicker than Derek originally thought. He’s a born leader, whether he realises it or not. Derek feels a sense of pride, that Scott’s made it so far in such a short time. It’s a warmth in his chest, something feeling vaguely like affection, something he hasn’t truly felt for so long. Scott catches his eye and grins wide, and Derek’s expression warms slightly, eyes reflecting his thoughts. And then Scott’s attention is drawn to Jackson, who has started arguing with Aidan, over something Derek doesn’t really care about, and the moment is gone. 

“He’s good.” Derek almost startles, the growl building in his throat dying as he sees who has sidled up beside him. Stiles is looking over to Scott as he handles the two werewolves, moving them apart and looking equal parts stern and amused at their drama. 

Derek nods. “Much better than I was.” 

Stiles smirks at him, their eyes level as they lean against the back wall of Scott’s living room. “I’m pretty sure even a raccoon could be a better alpha than you.” 

Derek raises an eyebrow. “A raccoon? Really? Where did that come from?” 

Stiles shrugs noncommittally, looking down at his shoes. His hair has gotten so long, and since Stiles uses no product, it’s untamed and sticking up at odd angles. Derek forces himself not to reach out and pull a hand through it, to see if it’s as soft as it looks. He closes his eyes and lets out a forceful breath. He’s losing his grip on himself. He doesn’t know where his self control has gone. 

He opens his eyes and finds Stiles staring up at him. When he doesn’t look away, Derek hears his heartbeat quicken. “When you--When you gave me your number.” 

Derek waits for him to continue. Stiles seems to gather his courage before speaking again. 

“I asked if it was an invitation. You said--well, you didn’t exactly say, but you--anyway, you suggested it was. An invitation. But I’m… I’m not sure what kind of invitation it is. If it’s--” 

The noise of the pack around them has faded into a low hum of background noise. Derek focuses completely on Stiles, as he stares intently at his hands, fingers weaving in and out of each other, circling and twisting around his grip. His skin has coloured to a bright shade of red, from the dip of his t-shirt around his collar bones to the tip of his ears. His skin looks smooth and unscarred, as if the past few months of his mental and physical torture from the nogitsune didn’t happen. Derek’s fingers twitch with the need to touch. 

“--If it’s… an invitation for texting. Or like. An invitation for more invitations. To--To hang out, or meet up, or just talk more, or--And I. That’s why I didn’t text you. I wasn’t sure what to do. And you’d looked kinda angry when you’d done it, so I wasn’t sure about that either, and--Derek?” 

Derek moves past Stiles and towards the back door. He turns to Stiles, whose expression is both confused and hurt, until Derek motions for him to follow and it smoothes into understanding. He glances around the room, briefly catching Scott’s eyes, before following Derek out into the back yard and further enough away from the curious ears of their friends. 

Derek swallows, pulling in a large breath of air until he turns back to Stiles. “Yes.” 

Stiles almost runs into Derek’s chest because of his sudden stop, and quickly steps back, eyes snapping to Derek’s face. “Huh?” 

“Yes. It was an invitation. For texting.” 

“...Oh.” 

“And for more invitations. And for hanging out. And meeting up. And more talking. And--” Derek stops himself before he can finish, mind scrambling to fix it before Stiles gets curious. “--And, yes, that includes random texts at four am about stupid shit you’ve just thought up.” 

Stiles’ face lights up with delight. “Oh, thank god, because I was going to go crazy if I didn’t know because I totally wanted to text you but I wasn’t sure if--” He cuts off. Clears his throat. He grins sheepishly at Derek, pulling his hand through his hair. Derek watches the movement rampantly. “Sorry. I’m just--yeah.” But his smile says it all.

Derek smiles back. 

~~~

From Stiles: Hey, what would happen if a werewolf went into politics? 

From Stiles: Like do you think he would be really good at it because he could tell when the opposition was lying? 

From Stiles: He could totally wolf out at a debate if the other dude said some stupid shit and scare him into submitting.

From Stiles: What if Obama is a werewolf? 

From Stiles: No that wouldn’t work because of the camera thingy. Fuck I was getting excited. 

From Stiles: What if Michelle Obama is the werewolf instead? She’d be a boss werewolf. 

From Derek: There’s already been a werewolf president. 

From Stiles: WHAT. 

From Stiles: WHO?????

From Stiles: DAMN IT DEREK TELL ME

From Derek: :) 

From Stiles: I HATE YOU NOW I WON’T SLEEP

From Stiles: Okay I don’t really hate you buT SERIOUSLY DEREK FUCK YOU

From Derek: You’re welcome.

~~~ 

From Stiles: People are idiots. I hate people. 

From Derek: I know. Same.

From Stiles: :)

~~~

From Stiles: Jackson smells pass it on 

From Derek: ?

From Stiles: you never heard it from me 

From Stiles: keep that text on the dl okay??? 

From Stiles: but also tell everyone you know. 

From Derek: That’s a little contradictory.

From Stiles: Shhhhhh just accept it and move on. 

~~~

From Stiles: I like texting you y’know?

From Stiles: Because you always text back. 

From Stiles: And you actually have a cool sense of humour. 

From Stiles: But mainly because you actually text me back. 

From Stiles: Unlike SOME useless alpha who said he’d be back soon and didn’t

From Stiles: He’s probably making out with Kira ugh not again 

From Stiles: Man I should start making out with someone while he’s texting me and see how he feels 

From Derek: So the weather isn’t bad today 

From Stiles: wtf

~~~

From Stiles: We’ve got a thing. Could be dangerous. Be there in 10.   
...  
From Stiles: help

~~~ 

Derek tears the door from it’s hinges and throws it at the feral werewolf standing above Stiles’ limp body. It hits, monster and mangled door flying across the room and hitting the far wall with a sickening crack. Derek rushes in, the rest of the pack at his heels, and he’s on the werewolf, claws digging into flesh, face twisted in rage as he makes sure the wolf is dead. The others dispatch the rest of the feral pack just as quickly.

When the feral wolf’s heart finally gives out, Derek launches himself to Stiles’ side, ignoring the blood on his hands as he cradles Stiles’ head. His face is slack, mouth hanging open, eyes closed, as if he were sleeping. 

“Stiles. Stiles! Wake up!” 

Jackson, Erica and Isaac lie a few feet away from Stiles. The pack work to remove their wolfsbane shackles as Scott moves over to Derek.

“Derek, move, we need to get him to the hospital. To my mom.” When Derek doesn’t move, Scott levels him with a stern stare. “She’ll make him better, Derek, but only if we can get him there.”

Derek grudgingly complies, letting Scott pick up his best friend and take him out of the warehouse. He vaguely hears Scott tell Allison to call his mom. 

~~~

Melissa tells them Stiles hasn’t sustained any serious injuries; he was just knocked unconscious and, while he most likely has a concussion, and some bruising, he will be fine. 

He was bait, nothing more. The feral pack didn’t deem him dangerous enough to beat to death. Derek’s grateful, underneath his simmering hate.

Scott had given him a knowing look before ushering everyone out of the room and leaving him alone with Stiles. Melissa predicted he’d wake up soon, and Scott would come back in the morning, when Stiles would be free to go. 

Derek watches the slow rise and fall of Stiles’ chest underneath and hospital blankets. He’s not sure how long he sits there, watching Stiles sleep, as if nothing had happened. His heartbeat is slow and calming, as are his slow and even breaths. Derek leans onto the mattress, and, unthinkingly, grabs Stiles’ hand and holds on tight. His skin is soft and pale, Derek’s skin, still dirty and stained, look unnatural in contrast. Stiles’ fingers twitch in his hold and Derek smiles to himself, wondering how Stiles would react if he were to wake up now. Derek feels his face redden at the thought and he pulls away, leaning back in his chair, letting his eyes fall closed. 

“Der’k.”

His eyes snap open. 

Stiles stares at him sleepily, lips slightly open, tongue darting out to wetten them. 

“Stiles?” 

“Why’d you--” He swallows, blinking himself awake. “Why’d you go away?” 

Derek frowns. “I’’m right here, Stiles.” 

“No, not--” Stiles reaches for him, then winces, pulling his arm back. “Ow.” 

“Don’t strain yourself. You’ve got some bruises. And possibly a concussion.” 

“Oh.” Stiles looks back up at Derek, lips pulled back into a frown. “I meant--why’d you--pull your hand away?” 

Derek’s face heats up, and he looks down at his hand, now resting on his lap. He lets out a small chuckle. “You weren’t supposed to notice that.” 

Derek glances up to see Stiles smiling sleepily. “I want to notice it.” 

Derek blinks. 

“I mean--you should. Do it again. With the hand. And the--the holding.” Stiles’ own face reddens. “Please? It’ll--It’ll totally help with the healing process. So I’ve been told.” 

Derek’s mesmerised by the colour. Instead of reaching for his hand, he moves forward, his fingers running delicately over the coloured skin of Stiles’ cheek. Derek freezes once he realises what he’s doing, eyes going wide, and he slowly meets Stiles’ gaze. 

Stiles huffs. “You big toad. You’re acting like I’ve caught you stealing cookies from the cookie jar.” 

“Um.” Derek says intelligently. “Toad?” Stiles cracks a smile. 

“Just hold my hand, jackass. You’re allowed to do that. I want you to do that.” 

So Derek does. This time, Stiles squeezes his hand in response, fingers tight around his. 

“Apparently getting kidnapped and put unconscious makes me brave. Maybe this should happen more often.” He’s silenced by Derek’s glare, and he laughs. “Kidding, kidding. Don’t get your knickers in a twist.” Stiles’ eyes widen and his face turns a deeper shade of red. 

Derek smirks. “Just go back to sleep, Stiles. I’ll be here.” 

Stiles nods. And closes his eyes. 

~~~ 

Derek pulls himself up from sitting on Stiles’ bed and heads towards the window. Stiles watches from his seat in front of the computer. 

“You don’t have to go, if you don’t want to.” 

They’ve been dancing around each other for the past few weeks now. When Stiles catches Derek staring at him with a vaguely wounded look, he offers him his hand, and Derek hesitantly reaches out to meet it. He holds on tight, as if when he lets go, he’ll drop off the face of the earth. Soon Derek starts offering his own hand, and is thanked with a bright smile and Stiles’ warm hand in his. 

Stiles had asked him to come over, and they’d settled into their familiar routine of doing nothing but talking. Until Stiles had mentioned school and Derek had remembered that it’s a Sunday night and Stiles needs sleep, like a normal teenager.

Now, Stiles is watching him with a painfully neutral expression, his long eyelashes framing his guarded eyes. Derek feels hope bloom in his chest, just like when he’d first given Stiles his number, and this time, he doesn’t squash it down. He takes a hesitant step towards Stiles, whose lips press together in a line, trying to hold back a smile. 

“Stiles?” 

“If you want to stay, you… you can.” 

Derek holds his breath. 

“I want you to stay.” 

Derek’s now right in front of Stiles, and as he looms over him, Stiles gives him his softest smile, right hand reaching forward to grab Derek’s. 

Derek uses his hand to pull him to his feet, Stiles’ face now inches from his own. He lets out his breath, and watches as Stiles breathes it in, pupils dilating until his eyes are dark, cheeks that beautiful shade of red, lips parted and soft. 

“Okay.” Derek says, moving forward until their lips finally meet. 

Stiles’ fingers intertwine with Derek’s at their sides, and with soft lips and soft tugs, invites him over to his bed. 

~~~

From Stiles: So this is a thing now 

From Derek: Yep 

From Stiles: Cool

From Stiles: Come over? 

From Derek: Okay

**Author's Note:**

> yo I finally kicked my ass into gear and wrote a fic for Teen Wolf. Finally.  
> I hope you enjoyed it, at least. I did maybe kinda write this at 3am so I apologise for the average-ness of it all.   
> If you wish to follow me on tumblr, just click here: http://khaleesitardis.tumblr.com/   
> (It's a multifandom blog, but I tag everything)


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